


Limp

by barresia



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Bonding, Broken Bones, Disney, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, God I love these two help, Hector being a dad once again, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Miguel being concerned, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, family bonding kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:47:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barresia/pseuds/barresia
Summary: The break in Héctor's leg has puzzled Miguel, not only how he got it but if he could fix it. Taking on the stubborn trait, it'll take a lot of convincing for either of them to give up.
Relationships: Héctor Rivera & Miguel Rivera, Héctor Rivera/Imelda Rivera
Comments: 13
Kudos: 183





	Limp

“Your leg is broken.”

Héctor looked down at the perplexed boy, eyeing away at the clear snap of his bone that wobbled along as he walked.

“That it is, chamaco.”

Miguel's face wrinkled, “Doesn't it hurt?”

“Mm, _nope_. I've gotten used to it, kid.”

Miguel snorted, “¡_no manches_! There's no way that doesn't hurt! Trust me, I tried it once.”

Héctor raised a brow ridge, urging the boy to explain further, “_Tried it_?”

“Yeah, I tried to hide that my arm was broken for a couple days. Ended up going to the hospital after a week.”

“A _week_?! Ay, chamaco. How did you even break it in the first place?”

“Dante scared me while I was trying to climb up to my favorite spot.” 

The noise that burst from Héctor was like a cross between a snort and a drunken laugh. He quickly attempted to compose himself, holding in the rest of his laughter with a cheesy grin.

“Hey, it's not funny!” Miguel protested, shoving Héctor lightly. But even he could see the small smile that betrayed his words.

Héctor raised his hand, playfully ruffling Miguel's hair, who swatted at him. “_Psh_, whatever you say, _Miguelito_.” 

“_Alright then._” Miguel smirked, “How did you break your leg, Mr. My-broken-bone-story-is-so-much-better-than-yours?”

Héctor’s grin faltered, “_Uh_, I don't want to talk about.”

Miguel leaned forward, his grin widened, “Oh? So it's _that_ bad, huh?”

“No. Yes. _Maybe_? Ugh, you're making this very difficult—” 

Miguel skipped forward past him, a smug look plastered on his face. “Until you grow a _backbone_ to tell one better than mine, I win.”

Héctor groaned, “_Hardee-har,_ chamaco.”

“There's more where that came from, Héctor!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oh _goody_, make sure to add bad skeleton puns to my criminal record!”   
  
Silence grew between the two, only the sound of distant music filled the air, festive beats lifted the spirits of the dead. Hector could make out distant echoes of gritos.

“Let me fix it for you.”

The voice had broken Hector out of his thoughts. He rested his gaze back on Miguel, the boy’s eyes were fixed back onto his broken bone. His voice did not speak lightly, and Hector could tell it was bothering him.

“_Fix it_? Kid, you can’t fix—”

“No, I can’t fix it _completely_, but I can patch it up to where you’re at least able to walk better.”

Hector paused, seemingly considering it. He shook his head, “No. _Nono_. You don’t need to worry about meE—!”

He let out a yelp and was jerked into motion, bones flailing and rattling throughout the air. Miguel had a death grip on his arm, pulling him towards a small alley. Hector watched as Miguel scanned the area, eyes settling on a crate before pulling it towards the wall. 

“Here _sit_,” commanded Miguel.

Héctor crossed his arms, staring down the boy who looked more than happy to be situated here all day.

“Miguel, we don't have time for this—_hey_!” 

Héctor fought against the pulls and pushes as Miguel tried to get him sit on the crate in front of him. They spun around, dragging each other’s weight in a competitive dance.

Miguel gritted his teeth, “We've got time—” he paused. “So just—_sit_.”

He shoved his hands against one of his ruddy cheeks, “Thanks for the offer, _gordito_, but you're _really_ getting _under my skin_—”

Miguel snorted, pulling down on his purple vest, “_Numskull_, you're missing a once-in-a-lifetime offering!”

Héctor glared, “_Me_?! You're the ones whose life is at...” 

He trailed off, catching the eyes a pair of skeletons and their child in his peripheral view. They stared at them with questioning glances, seemingly contemplating as if they should interfere with the twos dance recital of retorts. 

Héctor shoved Miguel. It took a moment for him to catch onto why he had stopped struggling. As he turned, his anger faltered at the three in front of him, and his face was replaced with a nervous, toothy grin. Héctor felt him press closer to him and took the opportunity to make an excuse.

He wrapped his arm around Miguel, “Ay, _mijo_, that's enough. You can go to the competition after a minute of rest.” 

The boy seemed taken aback but quickly pulled himself together and followed Héctor's lead. “¡Sí _Papá_! He practically bounced out of his grasp and onto the crate. Miguel patted to empty the spot beside him, “Why don't you come _sit_ for awhile?” 

Héctor watched him, little smug expression built behind those bright, deceiving eyes.

_Oh he's good._

_That little mier—_

“Of course! We've got an hour or so,” Héctor forced out. He planted himself next to Miguel as they both wrapped each other in a hug.

The couple seemed satisfied by the response, the woman letting out an “awe” as they walked off, each holding onto a hand of the child. 

Miguel had recovered faster from the incident than Héctor had, moving at a speed the he could not begin to comprehend where he got all the energy from. He continued to sit in silence as Miguel’s voice dimmed out into oblivion.

An overwhelming sadness washed over Héctor. He always hated seeing children in the Land of the Dead. They never got to experience life, never got to grow up and would always stay as a child. A chill ran over him.

That could happen to Miguel.

Miguel told him that he didn't have any family, at least here in the Land of the Dead besides Ernesto. He didn't know if he could even get to Mr. Eyebrows before the sun rises, before he disappeared, or even if Ernesto would believe Miguel was related to him. After all, Ernesto had avoided him like the plague, even though they were supposed to be best friends. Surely he wouldn't do the same thing to Miguel...

Right?

It tore at him that if Ernesto rejected Miguel as his own family or if he withered away before they got there, Miguel could end up all alone.

_Alone_.

Just like him.

He shook the thought away as he felt his leg being adjusted. Returning his gaze back on Miguel, he watched as he pulled a smaller box towards him. The fact that the kid was working this hard for someone as wimpy as him melted his heart. Coco would do little favors exactly like this, almost as if she wanted her Papá to know she loved him.

_Funny_, he already knew she loved him just as he would always love her.

Maybe that was why he wanted to move so fast. 

If he moved quickly, maybe the pain of saying goodbye to Miguel wouldn't be was bad. If he moved quickly, maybe he wouldn't see his daughter’s eyes every time he looked at him. If he moved quickly—

Maybe just maybe he wouldn't fail Miguel just as he had failed his own family.

“Hey, you don't have to—”

Miguel propped up his leg on the small box. He watched as his leg sank into it, digging and indenting the surface. Pulling out a small roll of duct tape, the boy got to work.

He lined up Hector’s break, “Consider this a thank you for helping me. Even though this took, I don't know, 20 minutes to convince you?’ 

Héctor waved a hand, “_Pah_, you really don't have to thank me. You're doing me a big favor already. But I'm sitting now, right? Happy now?” 

Miguel wrapped the tape around his leg, “Heh, _very_.” 

“So why?”

“Why what?”

Héctor pointed a finger to his break, “Why do you want to fix it so badly?”

The boy bit his lip, “We’ll move faster.”

Héctor narrowed his eyes, moving forward slightly. His eyes were downcast, clearly trying to avoid his gaze. Héctor watched as his movements picked up, as if he were trying to get out of the conversation.

Hector moved his hand on top of Miguel's, “Hey, _heyhey_ stop, chamaco.” 

The boy didn't say anything or fight him on his command. He just sat in silence, one that was clearly unlike him from the time he's spent with him.

“I'll wait, alright?”

“I don't want you to go.”

There was a long pause. The words were so simple, yet Héctor didn't know how to respond to it.

“This'll fix it, right?” 

“I can fix this. You'll cross the bridge and I'll go home.” He watched as he drew in a shaky breath. He continued to wrap his leg, shoving away his hand that laid on top of his. “You'll be ok and I'll be ok, _somehow_. I'll be who they want me to be.”

“_Miguel_—” Héctor reached forward to plant a hand on his shoulder, drawing back when Miguel flinched.

The gesture was small, but he recognized it anywhere. She would do it all the time when she was infuriated.

“Y’know” Héctor started, “you remind me of my wife.”

Miguel looked up, “huh?”

“Persistent, hard-working, stubborn—” he paused, pointing towards Miguel's heart, “You're hot-headed, but you radiate all kinds of love into the world. Just like she did.” 

“I— I guess.”

“Because you're just as stubborn as my wife, I have no doubt you'll get through this.”

“And you?”

He put on a smile that betrayed his words, “We'll figure something out.”

Héctor moved his leg, surveying the repair, “Not bad, chamaco! My wife had a talent for this sorta thing as well. She always wanted to start her own business.” 

Miguel brightened, “See? Was sitting for five minutes worth it?” 

“That was way more than five minutes.”

“Still—”

Héctor waved his hands, “Alright _alright_! Yes, yes it was. You got me.” 

“Now you'll be as fast as me when you go to visit me next Dia de Muertos!”

Héctor snorted, “Hah! That is if I don't break my leg first chasing you and your mutt across the Land of the Dead.” 

For once in a long time, Héctor actually felt hope. Although it was small, he’d take any chance he got. For once someone believed in him.

No longer would he stagger behind. 

He'd believe in Miguel just as Miguel believed in him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for not writing a lot lately! Schools been taking over my schedule, y'know? I'm sorry Deathly Dreams hasn't been updated. I really want to work on it when I've got time and patience to make it the best to my ability.
> 
> Anyhow, take another really short story because these two make me so happy. I'm pretty happy with the dialogue between the two. It feels very much like them, at least it does to me so I'd love to hear your opinions on it! Sorry if it jumps a lot! I wanted to focus on Miguel trying to take care of Héctor even though he's a kid. Kids gotta take care of their skeleton dads, right? ;D
> 
> Thank you reading, your feedback is greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
